One Free 'Do Over'
by jamc91
Summary: Ignores DH. Having lost everything in the Second Great War, Harry is given the chance to go back in time and set things right.


It was all over.

Voldemort lay dead on the ground, surrounded by the ruins of what was once Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Second Great War, lasting twenty years after the second resurrection of Voldemort, had destroyed the fragile wizarding world, unprepared for the havoc the Dark Lord had wrought upon it. Good had triumphed over evil, but at what cost?

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and now also the Vanquisher of Voldemort, sank to his knees beside Voldemort's smoking corpse. He felt no victory, no sense of accomplishment at having finally defeated the one who had caused the death of all his loved ones – his parents, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Ginny…

Ginny. His eyes were drawn to a mass of bright red a short distance away. Ginny, his one true love, his soul-bonded mate, had taken the Killing Curse meant for him. Voldemort had laughed as she crumpled to the ground and flung her body away as if it were trash with a flick of his wand. Enraged, that act was what had given Harry the final burst of power needed to kill him once and for all.

The soul bond was broken. He felt hollow inside. How could he live without his mate?

He couldn't.

He looked at his holly and phoenix feather wand, the one that had cast the killing blow, and pointed it at himself.

'_Avada Kedavra_.'

* * *

><p>He was floating in a pink mist.<p>

Strictly speaking, 'he' wasn't exactly floating, as he apparently had no body in this mist. He was a being of pure thought.

'Welcome to the mists, Harry Potter.'

Harry spun around. Or he would have, if he'd had a body. There was nothing else in the mist.

'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Where am I?'

'You are in the mists. I am… ' – and here the voice paused ominously – '…the Janitor.'

'You're the janitor,' Harry repeated.

'Yes, the Janitor.'

'Could I talk to the person in charge, please?' Harry asked politely.

Harry had a sense of the voice drawing itself up importantly, though how he knew this he wasn't sure.

'You are talking to the person in charge. I am the Janitor. That used to be a highly respected name before you humans went and ruined it, you know.'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'I'm sorry if I offended you.'

The Janitor sniffed. 'Apology accepted. Now hurry up and ask your questions, I've got better things to do than this.'

Harry made a conscious decision not to be offended and said, 'What am I doing here?'

'Let me check the book,' said the Janitor, and there was the sound of pages being flipped. 'Let's see here … you're Harry Potter, is that right? Cast _Avada Kedavra_ on yourself in the grief of having lost a soul-bonded mate after obtaining vengeance upon your parents' murderer?'

'That's the one,' Harry said.

'In that case, the rules are clear. You've fulfilled a set of suspiciously specific conditions, and have earned the right to one free Do-Over. That's one chance to go back in time and change fate,' the Janitor added quickly to forestall the inevitable 'what does that mean'.

'That's pretty convenient,' said Harry. 'How does that work though? I thought time couldn't be changed. I used a Time-Turner once, you know.'

'You don't need to sound so proud of that. Lots of people use Time-Turners, you know. In any case, Time-Turners work by the linear cause-and-effect version of temporal rules. Do-Overs work by the theory that time is really a big ball of wibbly-wobbly… timey-wimey… stuff.'

There was a pause. If he'd had a body, Harry would have looked at the Janitor quizzically.

'Don't look at me, I don't name this stuff,' said the Janitor defensively.

'As long as it works, I suppose. Do I get to choose when?'

'No, it's at random, but we have a guarantee: go back far enough in time to change fate, or your money back.'

'But you said it was fr –'

'Oh goodness, look at my wrist, I've got to go,' said the Janitor hurriedly. 'Off you go, then!'

And off he went, before he could protest that the Janitor didn't have a wrist.

* * *

><p>He awoke with a jolt in a very familiar four-poster bed. It was dark, and he could hear the faint snores and snuffles that indicated it was night-time.<p>

He was back at Hogwarts. Now to find out when he was.

'_Tempus_,' Harry whispered, casting the extremely convenient spell that completely eliminated the use of watches, which caused him to wonder why he even had one. Glowing letters appeared before his eyes, which told him that the time was currently three in the morning on 2nd September, 1992.

He was at the beginning of his second year, then. What could he do from here?

The diary! Ginny had the diary now, and had been writing in it since the trip to Diagon Alley. He had to save her from the clutches of the future Lord Voldemort!

Quiet as a fish out of water, Harry pulled aside his curtains and crept out of the dormitory. It was fortunate his roommates were all sound sleepers, as a fish out of water is not particularly quiet.

Harry went down to the common room and used his favourite flight spell to evade the stairs-turned-slide up to the girls' dormitories. It reminded him of happier days during his sixth year, when he'd done this often to visit Ginny. Distracted by his thoughts, he landed in an ungraceful heap on the landing outside the first-year dorm.

He sighed and picked himself up, then unlocked the door with a quick _Alohomora_ and tiptoed inside. Looking at the beds before him, he realised he had no idea which one was Ginny's; the layout of the dorms changed every year, as was Hogwarts's tendency. He felt a strange pull towards one of the beds, and he followed it to find Ginny sleeping soundly behind the curtain.

The soul bond must have guided him to her – it must be active, even now. Harry gazed down at his mate, her angelic features peaceful and serene in sleep. His eyes travelled down her body, and Harry felt vaguely perverted at being attracted to an eleven-year-old. But no, it was because they were soul-bonded, so it wasn't really that perverted. This should count as special circumstances. He was only physically one year older than her, anyway, even if his mind had over thirty years' worth of memories.

It was during his third inspection of Ginny's sexy pre-teen body that he realised she was clutching a book to her tightly. It was the diary.

How to get it from her? She was practically sleeping on top of it, and looked to have no intention of letting it go anytime soon.

But he had to get it as soon as possible – otherwise she would be possessed by Tom Riddle, and such damage to her psyche at such an early age would be…

Would be… good for her, actually.

Well not really _good_ for her, of course, but being possessed by the young Lord Voldemort had been an essential experience to shape her into the woman Harry loved in the first timeline. Who would she become otherwise? Harry loved the Ginny who understood him completely, who knew him inside and out. He wouldn't be able to stand it if she turned out differently because he changed past events. She was the reason he was able to come back and change fate, after all.

It pained him, but he would have to let eleven-year-old Ginny experience untold pain and mental scarring for her to become his one true love. It was for the greater good.

* * *

><p>The year flew by as students were Petrified and the basilisk terrorised the school. Harry eagerly awaited the day when he could swoop down to the Chamber of Secrets and become Ginny's knight in shining armour for her first time. Every time he saw her, though, he could sense her inner turmoil, and it caused him pain as well through the soul bond. To solve this, he simply avoided her as much as possible, though she was often in his thoughts.<p>

He tried to stick to the original timeline as much as possible, fearing what would happen to Ginny if anything changed. He could always start changing fate later, after all. He went along with the plan when he and Ron took Polyjuice to spy on Malfoy, and Hermione was sent to the hospital wing when she accidentally used cat hair. It was only when he and Ron sat by her bedside that he realised today was the day – the day Ginny was taken down into the Chamber.

The following hour happened very quickly, and the next thing he knew, he was on the other side of a collapsed ceiling in the Chamber of Secrets, with Ron and an unconscious Lockhart on the other side.

'If I'm not back in an hour,' Harry said to Ron, 'get help.' And he ran off to rescue Ginny, not hearing Ron's extremely valid question of 'How?'

* * *

><p>I AM LORD VOLDEMORT<p>

Harry stared at the fiery letters in the air, trying to look surprised, as Riddle continued his monologue.

'…when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!'

'No you're not,' Harry said reflexively. Voldemort had made this claim often in the future, every time they met on the field of battle, and including the battle where he died. Harry turned his eyes to Riddle. 'I am. I travelled back in time. Beat that,' he said, ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him he'd merely fulfilled a set of suspiciously specific conditions.

Riddle merely snorted. 'Do you think that is special, Harry Potter? Time-Turners may be uncommon, but they are not rare.'

'That's different,' said Harry. 'They work by a different set of rules. But I don't really think you need to know the details anyway.'

'You are quite amusing, you know,' said Riddle. 'You are twelve years old, and claiming to be the greatest sorcerer in the world, greater than Lord Voldemort?'

Harry had the niggling feeling that he was doing something wrong, and remained silent, trying to think.

Riddle took his silence as an answer. 'I thought not,' he said with a sneer. 'I am curious, however – Ginny told me all about you, you know. The Boy-Who-Lived.'

Harry ignored him. The feeling grew stronger, and it hit him.

'Oh crap,' he said. 'I mean, uh, you're not the greatest sorcerer in the world, that's Albus Dumbledore! Dumbledore's the best wizard, everyone says so, and… and I'm loyal to him!' he added desperately, remembering why Fawkes had shown up the first time.

Riddle ignored him. 'Tell me, how is it possible that a mere infant, no more than a year old, managed to defeat the great Lord Voldemort?'

'Because Dumbledore's the greatest wizard in the world,' Harry said, looking around for any sign of the phoenix. 'Also, because my mother – my common _Muggle-born_ mother, by the way – died for me. You keep going on about how Muggles are filth, but you're a half-blood yourself, you hypocrite. Shouldn't you kill yourself, if that's the case?'

'Oh, is that the case?' Riddle said evenly. 'We are very similar, you and I, Let us see who is better then – Lord Voldemort, heir of Slytherin, or Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.'

Harry was starting to panic. There was no sign of Fawkes. 'Wait, no –'

'_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_,' Riddle hissed.

'No don't do that, Fawkes isn't here yet, this isn't right –!'

The stone face of Salazar Slytherin was moving, its mouth opening, and something inside it stirring. The Basilisk was coming.

'FAWKES!' Harry yelled in desperation, grabbing his wand and scrambling back from the opening, shutting his eyes.

Riddle laughed, 'Not so confident now, are we, Harry? _Kill the boy!_'

This was bad, he needed the Sword of Godric Gryffindor to – hang on, did he actually need it? He had an arsenal of offensive spells he could use now, knowledge he hadn't had at twelve years old.

Harry, eyes still shut, blindly started casting Conjunctivitis Curses upwards, hoping to catch the Basilisk in the eyes so he could open his own. A great hiss of pain told him he had succeeded and he opened his eyes, grateful for his excellent blind aiming skills.

Problem was, without Fawkes to distract it, it was still coming for Harry.

'_You can still follow his scent! Kill the boy!_' Riddle hissed angrily at it.

Harry tried cutting curses, but they were merely absorbed by the Basilisk's thick snakeskin. He would need to curse it somewhere it was vulnerable.

As the snake descended on Harry, its jaw wide open, he shouted '_Reducto_!' and the hex cleaved straight through the roof of the Basilisk's mouth and out the back of its head.

It hovered there for a moment, stilling upon death, and started to fall.

Right on top of Harry.

Who, as it turned out, was at exactly the right angle for a Basilisk fang to pierce right through his leg.

Timelines had some constants, it seemed, and fate liked seeing Harry stabbed by basilisk fangs.

He fell to the floor in agony, the venom quickly passing through his system. Darkness was overtaking his vision and he could see Riddle becoming more and more solid as he laughed.

'Well done, Harry. It seems you've managed to slay my Basilisk. Unfortunately it has resulted in your death. Do you see who is the better wizard now?'

I am, Harry thought. 'Dumbledore,' he said weakly, 'greatest…'

'Loyalty serves no purpose now. Feel the weight of your defeat at the hands of Lord Voldemort, Harry.'

'Funny how,' Harry gasped, 'you need to prove… you're better… than a twelve-year-old.'

Satisfied at having managed one last dig in at Riddle, he let the darkness claim him.

* * *

><p>Ginny's soul was taken by Tom Riddle.<p>

Ron, not having shown any particular display of loyalty to Dumbledore, and not having any way to escape and get help, died with Lockhart inside the Chamber.

And so it was that the wizarding world fell to a young Lord Voldemort, all due to the selfishness of one time traveller who wasted his chance to change events. For phoenixes do not respond to false loyalty, and would have condemned Harry's actions in allowing such a fate to befall an innocent child.

* * *

><p>(AN: Unbetaed and written in a few hours. Sorry.)


End file.
